


and in the endless sky we are but one

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/F, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Some may call it superstition, but in Bernie Wolfe's experience full moons mean busy hospitals. This particular full moon brings some surprising revelations to light.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 30
Kudos: 66
Collections: Holby Halloween Monster Mash 2020





	and in the endless sky we are but one

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Halloween fic that got very out of hand! Special thanks as always to my darling Bonnie - this wouldn't have gotten done without her <333
> 
> you are the wolf  
> and I am the moon  
> and in the endless sky we are but one  
> we are alive  
> in my dreams, wolf and I  
> - _Wolf & I_, Oh Land

Keller is quiet when Bernie steps out of the lift. It’s a little surprising, given the full moon peeking from behind the clouds out the window. Some may call it superstition, but in her experience full moons mean busy hospitals. 

Her shift on AAU ended just a little while before, and on a whim she decided to check in on Fletch before she made her way home. He’s been awake a little over a week, and already chafing at being confined to a bed, to hear Raf tell it. Bernie can certainly sympathize; she thought she’d go mad during her time up on Darwin. 

As an added bonus, it gives her something to do besides drinking too much whiskey and dwelling on what a hash she’s made of things with Serena.

She smiles at one of the nurses, making her way across the ward to the private rooms. As she approaches, she can just make out Fletch’s voice, overlapped by a mix of others.

“...and I swear to you, it was the ghost of William Shakespeare!”

Bernie blinks in surprise as the door swings open, revealing not just a rather put out Fletch, but also Serena and Raf; the two of them laughing uproariously from a pair of chairs pulled up to his bedside. 

Her heart clenches at the sight of Serena - the first since their discussion, the decision to leave things in theater - and she pushes away the instinctive urge to turn and run.

“I‘m telling you, it was,” Fletch grouses.

“And I’m the pope, mate,” Raf says with a chuckle, a still laughing Serena leaning weakly against his shoulder.

Bernie raps her knuckles sharply against the door frame, poking her head in.

“Mind if I join the party?” Raf and Fletch immediately wave her in, but she watches Serena carefully, searching for any hint her presence may be unwanted. “What did I miss?” Bernie looks around the little group, pulling up a chair of her own. Serena finally recovers enough to straighten, carefully wiping the tears from her eyes, gives Bernie an unexpectedly welcoming smile that warms her right to her toes.

“Mr Fletcher here is telling ghost stories.”

“I need something to distract me from being stuck in this bed, don’t I? Even though these two are looking to ruin all my fun.” He frowns as Raf raises a cheeky eyebrow in his direction. “What about you, Major? Seen any ghosts out in the desert?”

Bernie demurs, ducking her head with a tiny shrug. Raf narrows his eyes.

“There is something, isn’t there?” he presses with a smile. “Don’t hold out on us.”

“Yeah, let’s hear it!” Fletch joins in, sensing her weakness. “It’s got to be better than Raf’s horse.”

“Hey! It was a kelpie, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, it wasn’t in the desert, and it wasn’t a ghost,” Bernie begins carefully, hunches a bit as all eyes focus on her. “But I did have an...experience, I guess you’d say.”

“Not you too!” Serena says in mock dismay, even as her eyes sparkle with a fondness Bernie doesn’t let herself think about too much. “I never would’ve taken you as a believer in all that supernatural claptrap.”

“I didn’t say I was. Just, there was this one thing I’ve never really been able to explain.”

“Well, go on then,” Raf says. “This I’ve got to hear.”

She shifts a little nervously. It’s not a story she’s told many people, and the thought of telling it now, when things are so unsettled with Serena, makes her feel awkwardly exposed. If it wasn’t for Fletch watching her so hopefully, she thinks she’d just brush it off, change the subject.

“When I was a girl, my Aunt Penelope had a cottage out in the country, and I used to spend most of my summers there. I think my parents just wanted a few days without me fighting with my brothers, if I’m honest.” The group chuckles at that, and Bernie feels her nerves subside a bit. “Anyway, the cottage was tucked back in the woods, just a quaint little place. Maybe a half mile away, tucked behind a hill was a clearing. On clear nights I would sneak out there and lay in the grass, watching the stars until sunrise.”

“Sounds like young Berenice was a budding romantic,” Serena says with a soft smile and wink, and Bernie feels her cheeks flush, ducks her head a bit as her hand comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I was there one summer when I was in secondary school, and there was a perfect night. Clear skies, and the biggest full moon you’ve ever seen. As I was laying there, I heard a noise in the trees. When I sat up, there was a wolf standing there, not 10 feet away.”

The room is silent, only the distant beeps of monitors intruding.

“Crikey,” Fletch says, eyes wide. “I’d’ve been scared out of my wits.”

“I was, at first.” Bernie leans forward, warming to her tale. “It looked huge, and I knew if I ran I’d never get away.”

“What did you do?” Raf’s elbows are propped up on the edge of the bed, his attention fully on Bernie’s words. Beside him, Serena is watching her just as intently, something Bernie doesn’t recognize in her eyes.

“I froze. What else could I do?” she says with a shrug. “But then the strangest thing happened. The wolf just looked at me, and - I know this sounds crazy - but I’d swear it was waiting to see what I’d do next.”

All these years later, the memory is still crystal clear in Bernie’s mind. The way the animal seemed to loom over her, silver fur glowing in the moonlight. And those eyes. Flashing gold and shockingly human, watching her not with fear, or intent, just curiosity. Like someone silently encouraging her to speak.

“So I started talking to it like I would a person.” She rolls her eyes, knows how it must sound. “I told it that I wasn’t there to hurt it. That I was just watching the stars.” Bernie can still picture the way the wolf cocked its head like it was listening, as if it understood what she was saying.

You could hear a pin drop in the room, Bernie thinks, the AAU group entirely caught up in the tale she’s weaving. It reminds her a little of telling stories to Cam and Charlotte when they were young, back when they would hang on her every word. 

“Then what happened?” Serena asks, something in her voice that Bernie can’t quite place, a layer of depth to the question that she doesn’t understand.

It’s only when Bernie thinks sees a flash of color in Serena’s dark eyes that she realizes she’s staring. Her eyes slant away quickly, heat climbing the back of her neck.

“It walked toward me, close enough that I could’ve reached out and touched it. I should have been scared, but...I wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t going to hurt me.” 

She wishes she had the words to express the eerie magic of that moment; the glade bathed in silver moonlight, the heaviness of the summer night, feeling like the whole world had gone still around her as the wolf approached. The sense that they could almost communicate, that she knew this creature and it knew her, in a way no one or nothing else ever would.

Shaking her head sharply, Bernie shoves her hands beneath her thighs with an awkward shrug.

“And then it just...left.”

Silence stretches again, long enough that it makes Bernie’s skin prickle.

“Maybe it recognized another Wolfe when it saw one,” Fletch jokes, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere, and Bernie manages a smile.

“Hey, what do you call a wolf who gets lost?” Raf pauses a beat, already grinning. “A where wolf!”

Fletch groans dramatically. “Aw mate, that’s terrible!” 

Raf laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t blame me! Mikey told it to me.”

The conversation moves on after that, Raf relaying stories about the antics of the Fletcher children. Bernie just lets it wash over her, still feeling a little uncomfortable and exposed. 

It doesn’t help that she keeps catching Serena watching her from the corner of her eye. As if she’s some kind of mystery Serena is intent on solving.

Eventually, Fletch begins to flag. They say their goodnights, walking back out across the ward together, talking softly. Bernie smiles a bit as Serena comforts Raf, reassures him that Fletch will be fine, that he’s doing right by the children under his care. She’s always envied Serena’s ease in caring for others, remembers how it felt to be on the receiving end of it, warming her like a plant in sunlight. The loss of that friendship is an aching hole in her heart, made all the worse by the knowledge that her own impulsive actions drove Serena away.

Raf peels off once they reach the car park, leaving Bernie and Serena alone. It hits Bernie all over again that this is the first time they’ve been alone since their conversation in the office. 

Awkwardness rises like a wall between them, one that Bernie doesn’t know how to scale.

“So, um, is it me avoiding you, or you avoiding me?” Serena’s eyes dart toward Bernie for just a moment as she speaks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. A wave of relief washes over Bernie, and she gives a tentative smile in return.

“Talk about ships that pass in the night,” she quips, hoping desperately she’s not overstepping the mark. It’s just that she so badly wants their friendship to be the way it was, to have Serena’s presence back in her life.

“And now she compares me to a boat.” Serena’s teasing smile fades a little. “I am sorry we haven’t talked. I just…”

“I understand, really,” Bernie interjects, squinting her eyes a bit in what she hopes is a reassuring smile. She told Serena the last thing she wanted was to make her uncomfortable, and that’s still true. If it takes pushing away her feelings, Bernie is more than willing to do it.

They reach Serena’s car first, hesitating by the door. Bernie wants to tell Serena how good it's been to see her, how much she’s missed this, but she fears it's too much, too soon.

“That was quite the story you told.” The change in topic takes Bernie a little aback, and she blinks a bit, shoving her hands deep into her pockets.

“Just trying to keep Fletch entertained,” she says with a shrug. “Nothing special.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” Serena steps closer and Bernie’s heart hammers in her chest, mind flooded with vivid memories of how sweet and soft Serena’s lips were against her own, the delicious tug of Serena’s hands in her hair. “I happen to think you’re very special, Bernie Wolfe.”

Just as quickly, she moves away, breaking the tension between them. Bernie can’t help but miss it, miss her.

“Well, I should get back before Jason misses me.” Her gaze lingers on Bernie a moment longer. “Good night, Bernie.”

“Goodnight.”

Serena turns away just as a car drives by, and for the briefest of moments, Bernie thinks she sees her eyes flash molten gold. _Must be the headlights_ , she chides herself, putting the fanciful notion down to the ghost stories of earlier. She stands there a bit longer, watches Serena’s car pull away before turning and heading home.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

It’s dark when Bernie jerks awake with a start, blinking a bit as she peers around her living room. It’s not unusual for her to nod off on the sofa, and tonight is no exception. An empty tumbler sits on the coffee table, and the television is still droning on in the background, and she can’t figure out what on earth woke her.

And then she hears a faint scratching noise from the back door.

Heart thudding, she gets to her feet, careful not to make any noise as she creeps down the hall. She finds herself wishing she had a cricket bat in the house, something to defend herself with. 

The scratching noise gets louder as she approaches, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Swallowing hard, she peeks out the pane of glass in the door.

Nothing. Just the dark outlines of her tiny back garden and the alley beyond.

The scratching comes again, down near the floor.

Steadying her nerves, she flips the lock open, slowly turning the knob before yanking the door open.

A huge silver wolf is laying on her back stoop.

Bernie cries out in alarm, instinctively tries to backpedal away, but her feet get caught up, and she falls to the floor with a thud. She scrabbles backward as much as she can, fear and adrenaline flooding her veins. Doesn’t stop until her back hits the wall, and she huddles against it.

It takes a moment for her to realize that the animal hasn’t moved. Is just laying there, perfectly still, watching her with wariness in its preternaturally golden eyes.

_Gold eyes_.

Shock washes over her like a splash of ice cold water. The logical part of her mind insists that this is impossible. That she must be drunk, or still asleep. Maybe both. Despite it all, deep down she knows - _knows_ \- this is the same wolf.

The realization must show on her face, because the wolf lowers its head with a pathetic whine, crawling forward on its belly until its paws are just over the threshold. The light from the hall illuminates enough of its body that Bernie can see where silver fur turns to a patch of wet, matted darkness along the animal’s rear flank, and a surge of fear spikes through her. The wolf whines again, brows pulled into an all too human expression, one that Bernie’s seen on countless patients over the years.

Pain.

Her surgeon’s instincts kick in and before she can think better of it, Bernie moves closer, still crouched close on the floor, eyes locked with the wolf. It watches her, but doesn’t move, seems to be waiting for Bernie to decide what happens next. When she’s just barely within arms reach, she stretches a hand out along the floor, terrifyingly close to the animal’s muzzle. Amazingly, it doesn’t snap, or growl. The wolf instead lowers its head to the ground, nudging it’s muzzle beneath Bernie’s fingers, eyes sliding shut with an almost sigh.

It’s clear that the animal needs help, even if the situation is entirely mental. Pushing her misgivings aside, Bernie lets her fingers trail along the rough fur; not petting, just reassuring.

“It’s all right,” she says softly, a mirror of that night so many years ago. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can help.” 

The wolf’s eyes open at that, meeting Bernie’s directly, and she could swear the beast nods. A moment later it seems to gather its strength, lumbering unsteadily to its feet. 

_I’m mad. I must be mad_ , Bernie thinks frantically as she leads the wolf back down the hall. It limps along behind her, clearly favoring its injured rear leg. They reach the sitting room and Bernie pulls an old blanket off the sofa, spreading it out across the floor. The wolf flops down on it heavily with another one of those heart wrenching whines, legs seeming to give out beneath it.

Carefully, Bernie sinks to her knees at the edge of the blanket. From this angle it strikes her all over again just how large the wolf is, how easy it would be for it to tear her limb from limb if it wanted. She forces herself to focus once more on those eyes, lets them buoy the kernel of absolutely certainty lodged in Bernie’s heart. 

Keeping her movements slow, she reaches toward the leg that’s matted with blood. The wolf’s brow furrows, flinching a bit as Bernie’s hand comes close, and she freezes, hand hovering in the air. 

“I know,” Bernie says, keeping her voice low and even. “But I need to take a look.”

With another human-esque huff, the wolf eases its front paws out, rolling onto its side, exposing the snowy white fur along its belly. Taking that as permission, Bernie touches the wolf properly for the first time.

It’s fur is softer than she expected; warm, and thick enough that her fingers sink into it. No longer in the light of a full moon, Bernie can see the darker brown peppered through the silver grey fur, making it all the more real. The wolf’s ribs expand and contract beneath her palm, breathing surprisingly steady.

Bernie gingerly pushes back some of the blood soaked fur, right at the edges, parting it until she can see the flesh underneath, looking for the source. It's a few minutes before she finds the first wound, hidden enough that her finger skirts near it without realizing. The wolf yelps, jerking beneath her hand, and Bernie only barely manages not to bolt from the room.

“You need to stay still,” she says, heart practically in her throat. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The wolf’s head drops back to the floor, eyes mostly closed, leaving the barest slit of color. Just enough to watch Bernie’s every move as she returns to the task at hand.

She finds a series of small, painful looking wounds peppered across the animal’s flank - buckshot, by the look of it. Probably some hunter, or farmer protecting their property. The thought of anyone turning a weapon on this stunning creature stirs something deep in Bernie’s chest. Palpating the injuries as gently as she can, it quickly becomes apparent that some of the shot is still embedded in the wolf’s skin and muscle.

“I need to get a few things. Be right back, ok?” The wolf raises its head as she speaks, then lays back with a grumble.

It only takes a few minutes for Bernie to gather what she can - rubbing alcohol, gauze, nitrile gloves left over from a box of hair dye, some tweezers and a pair of sharp scissors, the suture kit she keeps on hand in case of emergency. She also grabs the reading light from the little desk in her bedroom, dropping all of the supplies in the sitting room before going to scrub her hands in the kitchen sink.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a last remaining scrap of logic is shouting that this is insane. She’s no veterinarian. And even if she were, performing any kind of procedure on an unsedated wild animal can only be folly of the highest degree. But as she walks back into the room, the wolf raises its head just slightly with a look of such pain that she knows she can’t turn away.

Kneeling down, she plugs in the reading light, adjusting it so it illuminates the wolf’s wounded flank and snaps on the gloves, sets to work clipping away enough of the thick, blood soaked fur to give her some kind of visibility.

Picking up the rubbing alcohol, Bernie pauses, lets her free hand rest on the animal’s side, feeling the rise and fall of its breathing, the steady rhythm helping to ground her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, wishing desperately there was more she could do. “This is going to hurt.”

The buckshot isn’t embedded terribly deep, but the number of wounds makes it slow going. Her gloves are slick with blood as she digs in with the tweezers, retrieving the pellets and dropping them in a bowl with a metallic _plink_. Although she knows the wolf can’t possibly understand, she talks through every step of the procedure, keeping her voice calm and even, hoping the tone will help soothe the wolf. 

Unfortunately, without any kind of anesthetic on hand, there’s no way to make the work she needs to do painless. Her heart aches with each twitch of muscle beneath her hands, the soft, heart wrenching whines bringing a burn of tears to her eyes.

Finally, what feels like an eternity later, Bernie ties off the last suture, snipping the thread as close to the skin as she dares, peels off the bloody gloves and drops them atop the pile of buckshot in the little bowl. She can tell the wolf is exhausted, laying limp, eyes lidded, not even moving when she gives the area a last swipe with an alcohol soaked flannel. Wiping down her hands, she looks over the wound site. It’s hardly the neatest work she’s ever done, but Bernie thinks it will hold long enough to heal.

Without thinking, she brings a hand up to stroke against the animal’s long muzzle, the fur here short and bristly against her fingers. It’s not petting, exactly, more the kind of soothing caress she’d give her children after a nightmare to lull them back to sleep.

“Get some rest,” she says softly.

As she moves away, the wolf grumbles a bit, one of its huge paws coming to rest atop Bernie’s hand. The message is clear - _stay_. 

She hesitates. Even after the impossible strangeness of this night, a part of her is unable to set aside that this creature could easily kill or maim her. Still, something in those fathomless amber eyes pulls at her, makes it impossible to turn away.

Nodding slightly, Bernie grabs a cushion from the sofa to tuck beneath her head and lowers herself to the floor, face to face with the wolf. It gives a satisfied sort of huff, snuffling a bit as she settles down.

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but it’s the middle of the night, and now that the adrenaline has passed a wave of exhaustion tugs at her. As her eyes slip shut, the last thing Bernie feels is soft warm breath on her face, and a brush of fur against her hand.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Light slants across Bernie’s closed eyes, rousing her from sleep. She groans a bit, her back protesting as she shifts against the unforgiving floor beneath her. Eyes still closed, Bernie tries to recapture sleep, instinctively burrowing closer to the warmth against the front of her body, hand sliding across soft, warm skin.

_Wait. Skin?_

Her eyes snap open, taking only a moment to focus on the short crop of dark hair scant inches from the tip of her nose, a scent she’d recognise anywhere, the curvaceous body resting peacefully beneath the weight of her arm. The extremely _naked_ curvaceous body. 

One which undeniably belongs to Serena Campbell.

Bernie jerks her arm back as if burned, scrambles backward, only managing a foot or so before her back hits the edge of the sofa.

Serena stirs, likely woken by the noise, blinking a bit as she looks around the room. Bernie can see just enough of her face to see her eyes go wide with shock.

A whispered curse turns into a pained groan as Serena pushes herself up to sit. She leans heavily on her left leg, and Bernie’s eyes are drawn to the ragged smattering of stitches scattered across the swell of her right hip and thigh, smears of dried blood stark against her pale skin.

Her brain balks at the implication, everything going a bit grey around the edges.

“Bernie, breathe. You need to breathe.”

Serena’s voice manages to penetrate the fog, her eyes looming large in Bernie’s vision, flecks of gold dancing in their depths. Gradually, Bernie forces herself to take a breath, then another. With each one the fog recedes, until she can once again focus on Serena’s face, the lines of it etched deep with worry.

“Serena,” she murmurs, willing her mind to clear, heart racing like a fox catching the scent of a hound. “Serena? You...how-?”

“Bernie, calm down.” Bernie responds instinctively to the snap of command in her voice, spine straightening and jaw snapping shut. “I’ll explain everything, I promise, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to do it while wearing clothes.”

It’s only then that Bernie really registers just how naked Serena is, feels herself flush right to her hairline. She slides a little awkwardly to the side on her arse, until she’s far enough away to stand with absolutely no risk of crossing the invisible boundary created by the blanket on the floor. Serena just watches her silently, sitting very still in the center of the throw, as Bernie’s gaze flits across everything in the room that isn’t freckle-dusted skin.

“Right. I, uh, I’ll get-. I mean, I’ll be…” Gesturing vaguely over her shoulder, Bernie flees down the hall at only slightly less than a run.

In her bedroom once more, Bernie digs through drawers for something she thinks will fit, eventually settling on an old pair of baggy joggers and an RAMC t shirt. Her mind is whirling so fast she can hardly tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t think she hallucinated last night - it all feels too real to have been just in her mind. But she’s positive that Serena wasn’t there. And how can she explain away the stitches on Serena’s hip, the ones she knows without checking match the locations of the wolf’s wounds?

Bernie returns to the sitting room, finds Serena sitting in one of her saggy armchairs, wrapped up in the blanket they’d slept on. She hands the clothes over silently, quickly turning away when Serena drops the blanket then and there. Studying the texture of the nearest wall intently, she tries not to think about Serena’s naked body, about her dressing in Bernie’s own clothes. The flush she feels climbing her neck proves she’s not terribly successful.

“You can turn around now.” There’s a wry note of teasing in Serena’s voice, so familiar, like this was any other day.

Bernie shoves her hands in her pockets as she turns, ignores the way her heart flip flops at the sight of Serena. She looks younger in the casual, oversized clothes, eyes guarded and face filled with uncertainty.

“Would you like to sit down?” she asks, a little hesitant. “This, uh, could take awhile.”

Bernie just shifts her weight from foot to foot, shoulders hunched up practically to her ears, shakes her head in a negative, not quite trusting her voice. Serena sighs, one hand worrying the skin at the base of her throat.

“Well, no sense beating around the bush.” She straightens, adopting the posture Bernie’s so used to seeing in staff meetings. “I’m a werewolf.”

Bernie blinks.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“I’m a werewolf,” Serena repeats, a little slower this time, as if the problem was Bernie not hearing her correctly.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

Bernie looks at Serena like she’s lost her mind - an increasingly real possibility, she fears. 

“Because, well, because werewolves aren’t _real_!”

“And yet, here I am.” Serena sighs again, dragging a hand through her short hair, making it stick up adorably. “I know this is a lot to take in, I do. And I’m so sorry I put you in this position. I meant to be gone before you woke up.”

“Gone? But you weren’t...I mean, how are you even here?”

“Bernie. The wolf last night. The one you helped.” She shrugs a bit helplessly. “That was me.”

The room tilts a bit in her vision, and Bernie just manages to drop heavily onto the sofa. She’s vaguely aware of Serena leaning forward, hand hesitating in midair.

“Just take your time,” she says softly, and Bernie barks out a laugh.

“Take my time?” she scoffs. “As if more time is going to make this any less insane.”

A spark of irritation flashed in Serena’s eyes. “Does insanity explain this?” She tugs down the joggers, revealing the enticing curve of her hip with its smattering of stitches. “Deep down you know what I’m telling you is true. That’s part of why I came here.”

A frown furrows Bernie’s brow. “What does that mean?”

Serena shifts a little uncomfortably, eyes darting away as if gathering her thoughts. It's a few moments before she speaks.

“I think I knew, when you came to Holby. That day in the carpark, remember?” Bernie tilts her head at the non sequitur. “You seemed so familiar to me, like we’d met before. I think it’s part of why we grew so close so quickly. At first I put it down to familiarity with your work, your reputation.” Her eyes flick back to Bernie’s. “Until you told that story, and it all clicked in place.”

“What?” It’s more a movement of lips than a word, but Serena seems to understand.

“It was the summer of my first change,” she says, still watching Bernie carefully. “My parents rented a cottage out in the country so I would have some time and space to adjust to it all. I was out in the woods, when I happened upon a clearing.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Your hair was darker then.”

The breath catches in Bernie’s chest, a vague feeling of dizziness washing over her, as if the air suddenly has too little oxygen.

“Wha-” Bernie clears her throat, licking her dry lips. “What are you saying?”

“When you told that story, I couldn’t believe it. Of all the people in the world…” Serena leans forward intently, and for a moment her eyes seem a little brighter, almost golden in the morning light. “The wolf you met that night, in the forest. It was me.”

Mind reeling, Bernie pushes to her feet, suddenly unable to stay still. Serena just watches her warily as she paces, a hand dragging through her already mussed hair.

“So, what,” she asks incredulously, never breaking pace. “Are you going to tell me you were bit when you were younger? Isn’t that how this works?” Serena just leans back, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“That’s actually a myth. Lycanthropy is hereditary, usually along the maternal line.”

That throws Bernie a bit, and she pauses her anxious pacing.

“D’you mean your mother…?”

“Was a werewolf, yes. And her mother before her. It’s always been in the McKinnie line, as far as we can tell.”

“Elinor?”

Serena grimaces. “Yes, a fact that she rarely lets me forget. She has some...strong opinions on the life she’s been forced to lead as my daughter.” Bernie almost smiles at that. Serena’s told her enough stories about Elinor that she can almost imagine. A thought occurs to her, bringing a frown to her face.

“What about Jason?”

“Like I said, it’s only the women in our family.” A brief cloud of sorrow passes across her features. “His mother, Marjorie, was. She actually died from a run-in with a hunter, not cancer.” Her mouth twists in irritation. “I almost went the same way tonight, bloody fool that I am.”

Bernie’s heart stutters a bit, the realization that it was _Serena_ she operated on, however minor, making her a little queasy. Propping her elbows on her knees, Bernie puts her head in her hands.

“None of this makes any sense,” she says, voice muffled in her palms. Sitting up with a frustrated sigh, she drags her fingers through her already messy hair. “How am I supposed to believe any of this? And even if I did believe it was true, which I don’t, why on earth are you here telling me all this?”

“Where else was I supposed to go?” Serena shrugs a bit, looking uncomfortable. “I couldn’t change and go to a hospital without answering some terribly awkward questions. And I certainly couldn’t do it myself.” Something sad flicks across her eyes. “I knew, well, I _hoped_ that you would help me.”

“Serena.” Bernie hates the plaintive note in her voice. “How do I-, what am I supposed to do?”

“I didn’t want to do this.” Serena grimaces, a sense of dread settling over her, and she takes a slow breath, trying to push the feeling away. “I can prove it to you.”

“Prove it?” Bernie stomach flips. “What, you’re going to change into a wolf right here?”

Serena rolls her eyes, some of her usual confidence returning. “I can’t change in full daylight. Well, not easily anyway. But I can show you, if you’ll let me.”

Bernie hesitates. Of course she wants to know the truth of all this, or at least she thinks she does. Frankly, she still doesn’t believe Serena’s going to be able to show her anything. Nodding in agreement, she prepares herself for what comes next when this “proof” fails to manifest.

Serena shifts to the edge of her seat, eyeing Bernie for a moment, then drops her head. She takes a few deep breaths, a shudder running through her body. Very slowly, she raises her head, and Bernie’s mouth opens in a silent gasp.

Serena’s beautiful warm brown eyes, the ones Bernie’s been dreaming of for weeks, are gold. Impossibly gold. A color Bernie’s only ever seen twice before - once as a teenager, and again last night.

“Oh my god.” The words sound very far away, like they’re coming from someone else. “It’s-, you’re a- Oh my god!”

A few blinks and Serena’s eyes return to normal as she moves to sit beside Bernie on the couch. She reaches out, again stopping herself, as if sensing that touching Bernie would be a step too far.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Bernie. I swear. In fact,” Serena says, swallowing hard. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever told.”

That takes Bernie aback, and she tries to ignore the swell of warmth that rises in her chest.

“Thank you, by the way.” The corner of Serena’s mouth ticks up in a shy, hopeful smile. “For helping me.”

Bernie shrugs a little awkwardly. “I couldn’t very well leave you there, could I?”

“A bleeding wolf on your back stoop? I’m just glad you didn’t call the police!”

“I, uh-” Bernie ducks her head, fringe falling like a curtain between them. “I-, I think I knew, too. That it was you. I mean, not _you_ , but that the wolf-, that you were the same wolf that I, or person that-” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a laugh. “This is all very confusing.”

Serena joins in, her low chuckle making Bernie smile. “Believe me, I know. I’m sorry for that.” Her expression shifts a bit, uncertainty showing through. “Ah, in the interest of, you know, divulging things,” Serena says, and Bernie stiffens because it feels like they’ve had quite enough revelations for one day, but Serena’s hand covers her own, palm warm against her skin. “You should know that I haven’t been avoiding you because of theater, because of...the kiss.” 

Bernie feels heat climbing up her neck.

“You, um, haven’t?”

“No. In fact, I feel like I’ve thought of little else for weeks now.” Bernie sees Serena’s eyes flick down to her lips, and she’s certain her heart skips a few beats, until Serena forces her gaze away with a sigh. “Things with me are...well, complicated doesn’t begin to do it justice. And, I-, I care about you Bernie. So much. The last thing I want is to get you tangled up in all this, to make your life any harder.” Serena’s eyes glisten, and Bernie has to restrain the urge to wrap her arms around her. “You deserve better than that.”

“Seems like I’m tangled up in it already.”

The pain that crosses Serena’s face makes Bernie’s guts clench, but she doesn’t regret saying it, exactly. It’s just that Serena’s come to her house, dumped all of this in her lap, and she has no idea where they go from here. It’s overwhelming, and isn’t entirely convinced that she’s not going to wake up in another hour to realize this has all been some bizarre, elaborate nightmare.

“I, uh, I think I need some time.” She carefully extracts her hand from Serena’s, trying to soften the blow with a smile that she hopes doesn’t look as pained as it feels. “This has all been...a lot to take in.”

“Uh- of course.” Serena’s voice is tight, huskier than normal, and she can’t quite meet Bernie’s eyes. It makes Bernie nauseous. “I just, I have to ask that you not tell anyone. I _can_ trust you, can’t I?”

She looks back up at that, eyes so fearful and earnest, Bernie nods before she even thinks, desperate to reassure her.

“Always.” She chances another smile, more genuine this time. “I’ve got your back, remember?”

That at least brings an answering smile to Serena’s face, even if it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I, ah, I should be getting back. Jason will worry.” Serena stands, wincing slightly as she puts weight on her injured leg. “Do you mind if I borrow these?” she asks, gesturing at Bernie’s clothes on her frame. “I’ll return them, freshly laundered of course.”

“Oh, right. That’s fine.” Bernie glances at her hip. “Are you going to be alright getting home? Or do you want me to cover for you on AAU for a few days?”

“That won’t be necessary. One of the perks of all this is that I’m rather a fast healer.” Bernie blinks a bit, files that tidbit away for later consideration. 

Things are more than a little awkward as Serena makes to leave. She’s practically to the front door before she realizes she doesn’t have any shoes, and it's a few minutes before Bernie is able to dig an old pair of flip flops out of the cupboard that will fit well enough.

Bernie opens the door, and Serena steps out into the bright morning, the sun now fully risen. She hesitates on the front steps, turning back, looks like she wants to say something. Apparently she thinks better of it.

With a sad little smile, she turns and walks away, the too big sandals make a soft _thwap_ on the pavement with each step. Bernie shuts the door behind her, but lingers, watches pensively from the window until Serena disappears down the street.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

If things were awkward before, now they’re downright painful. Bernie doesn’t even know where to begin adjusting to the revelation of Serena’s unusual heritage. A part of her keeps expecting to wake up, even days later, to discover it was all a truly bizarre dream. But that never happens.

The whole werewolf thing is bad enough. Add that to the idea of her feelings for Serena being reciprocated, and... Well. That tends to send Bernie into full mental shut down.

They barely talk the first week. It's not even that Bernie’s upset, exactly, but what on earth would she say? _Chase any good rabbits lately?_

Serena keeps her distance as much as is possible when they share a ward, goes out of her way to take on some of the extra admin duties, leaving Bernie to do the lion’s share of the patient care. All too often, though, Bernie can feel Serena’s eyes on her, tracking her as she goes about her day. And when she dares to look up, the sorrow she sees in Serena’s gaze cuts her to the quick.

The only time they’re together is in the occasional surgery that requires both of their skills, and even that is different as night from day to how it was before. There’s no more joking banter, what Bernie finally recognizes had been flirting on both sides. Just minimal, efficient, if slightly stilted, communication when absolutely necessary. The realization that their connection, their innate ability to read one another, is what allows them to still be a great team, makes it just that more painful.

It certainly doesn’t help that the staff can clearly see something’s changed. Raf and Ric watch them warily with hawk-like focus. Sometimes Bernie even sees them whispering together, only to break apart unceremoniously when either herself or Serena look their way. Even worse is Morven, who walks around like a perpetually kicked puppy, looking between them with those big, wet, dark eyes. More than once it sends Bernie to the roof in search of some fresh air and solitude.

Though awkwardness may be the new normal on AAU, occasionally Bernie finds herself slipping back into old habits. Serena stood with Morven at the nurse’s station when Bernie stopped by to grab a chart, the two of them talking and laughing as Morven told a story about Arthur. It made Bernie smile, glad that the two women could share things like this to help lessen their grief.

“I never really understood his fascination with the military,” Morven mused.

“Maybe it’s the uniforms,” Serena said. “They certainly can be dashing.”

Without thinking, Bernie found herself saying, “That’s how they recruited me. Never been able to resist a fancy hat.”

It’s a simple slip of the tongue, but it reminds Bernie forcefully of how things were _before_. And it’s clear she’s not the only one. Serena’s smiling at her so brightly Bernie fears it may leave sunspots behind her eyes, and Morven is looking like all of her Christmases have come at once. 

It was all too much.

Before she could really think about it, Bernie was muttering some kind of lame excuse about a consult past the lump lodged in her throat, practically running for the stairs.

Dropping the smoldering butt of her cigarette on the roof, she grinds it out with the toe of her trainer, arms pulling her hoodies a little tighter around her slender frame as a gust of wind whips around her, pulling at her hair. She knows she needs to go back, that there’s work to be done, and she can’t do that work if she keeps avoiding Serena like the plague. It’s simply unsustainable, but what are her other options? 

She could leave Holby; lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time she’s run away from her problems, but with things the way they are with her children, she can’t help but fear that would be the final cut to the remaining tenuous strands of their relationship. That takes fleeing right off the list.

Staying brings its own problems. Staying at Holby means staying with Serena, in her ward, and in her life. That’s unavoidable. Which means, either Bernie needs to put an end to any semblance of a relationship with Serena, friendship or otherwise, go back to being just cordial co-workers. No more long nights at Albie’s, walking too close in hallways, warm lingering smiles, or gentle touches that sent sparks across her skin.

Or she can accept this. Accept that what Serena has told her, shown her, is true. 

Bernie’s honestly not sure which option is more terrifying.

Halfway down the stairs, she decides she’s just not ready to go back, makes an excuse to herself that she hasn’t checked up on Fletch in a bit, and ducks through the door onto Keller. She’s relieved to see that Fletch is alone, and she raps her knuckles smartly on the door frame.

“Mind some company?” 

Fletch’s face lights up in a grin.

“Best offer I’ve had all day.” He pushes himself to sit a little higher, only wincing slightly as Bernie makes her way into the room. “I’d offer you a pint, but they seem to frown on that sort of behavior up here.”

“All the more reason to come back to AAU,” Bernie says, settling into a chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick to death of that question,” Fletch grouses. “Only thing worse is my friends coming in to check my chart at all hours, like I’m not even here.” 

Bernie smiles sympathetically. “That's the trouble with hospitals - we spend so much time working, we don’t have any friends outside of them.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He thumps the hospital bed like it’s one of the stout wooden tables at Albie’s. “So, come on then. What have I missed? Any good gossip down an AAU?”

Bernie’s never been much for gossip, but the ward is small enough that there’s no avoiding it all the time. She spends a few minutes filling Fletch in on Morven’s epic paperwork battle with the head of the hospital lab, and the new porter who has a raging crush on Lou.

“He follows her around like a lovesick puppy. I swear, one of these days she’s going to toss a stick across the ward just to see if he chases it.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Fletch says with a chuckle. 

The conversation lulls a bit - Bernie’s hardly the best at small talk, and she can see Fletch is tired. Bernie rubs her hands on her thighs with an awkward smile, making to stand.

“Wait, Major. I meant to ask you - how’s Serena?” Bernie’s eyes go wide, heart leaping into her throat. “Raf mentioned she seemed a bit out of sorts, and I was wondering if you knew what was going on.”

“Me?” A dull flush climbs the base of Bernie’s neck. “No, nope. I, uh, I haven’t noticed anything.” Her eyes flick nervously away from Fletch’s, tucks her fingers beneath her legs to them from fidgeting.

Fletch just hums softly, gives her a look that she’s almost certain she’s seen him give Mikey a time or two.

“She’s been through a lot, Serena.” The change in direction throws Bernie off a bit, and Fletch’s face is impassive, though his eyes are sharp. “Her mum dying. Edward making trouble. Finding out about her sister, taking in Jason. And we all know Elinor doesn’t make her life any easier. She does a good job hiding it - you know how she hates the rumor mill - but the past few years have been hard on her.” 

Bernie swallows, nods slightly. She’s not sure where he’s going with this, but she knows all too well the challenges Serena has faced. Hell, she knows far more than Fletch likely ever will.

“We were worried for a while there, Raf and I,” he continues. “Serena may be able to charm the birds from the trees, but she doesn’t let people close, yeah? Always tries to take everything on herself. Never asks for help.”

“Fletch, I don’t-”

“The last few months it's like she’s a new person,” he says, ignoring Bernie’s attempt to interject. “Like a weight’s been lifted off her. She’s...happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her, that’s for sure.”

A dull ache swirls in Bernie’s stomach, as she thinks of how very unhappy Serena has been since Bernie found out, thinks of the uncomfortable tension that’s taken over the ward. She looks up, startled, when Fletch rests a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re good for her,” he says earnestly. “Have been from the very beginning. And I think she’s good for you, too. Maybe that’s worth setting aside whatever’s happened between you two, yeah?”

Bernie’s heartbeat thuds in her ears, confused emotions settling in a knot in her chest. Embarrassingly, she feels the hot prick of tears behind her eyes, and once again she’s overcome by the need to run from feelings she’s not ready to face.

She mumbles some sort of weak excuse, and with a nod and a tight smile, gets up to leave, feeling Fletch watch her as she goes.

His words follow Bernie all the way back down to AAU, swirling in her mind alongside all the other thoughts and fears and uncertainties that have been plaguing her for weeks. She’s thinking about them still when she gets home that night, brain still buzzing despite her body’s exhaustion. It’s only once she’s curled up on her sofa, a generous pour of whiskey in her hand, that she lets herself really think about the situation.

It seems ridiculous that Serena’s the wolf, and yet she isn’t. Ridiculous that werewolves even exist. She sips her whiskey, has more than a sip. And thinks about the wolf. She thinks about Serena. The golden flashing eyes, the brown sparkling ones. How they both made her feel safe. 

That’s the real question, she realizes. At the end of the day, does this revelation really change anything? Yes, Serena has this massive, unfathomable secret. But does it change who she is? 

From what Serena told her, she’s been this way for most of her life. That means that Serena’s kindness, her caring, that wicked sense of humor, her tenacity and intelligence, they’ve all existed side by side with the fact that she’s a werewolf. None of that has changed.

And despite her best efforts, Bernie knows that her feelings for Serena haven’t changed either.

If nothing’s changed, she thinks, then what’s the point of all the awkwardness between them? Fletch was right that the current situation is doing nothing but make them both miserable. The problem is, when Bernie tries to think of what it would look like if she did reach over the divide between them, all she sees is uncertainty.

Mind reeling with more questions than answers, Bernie drains the last drops from her glass, heads up to bed to face another sleepless night.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

“Ukraine?” Bernie blinks in surprise, looking between Hanssen and the brochure he’s slid across his desk.

“I know you’ve only just gotten the trauma unit up and running,” he says. “But it is an excellent opportunity, one very well suited to your skill set, I should think.”

Hanssen’s right, of course. Even a cursory glance of the materials tells Bernie that the secondment is a perfect fit for her. A month ago she’d have taken it without a second thought. Now, however…

“Have, uh, have you discussed this with Serena?” Bernie picks up the brochure; something to keep her hands occupied.

“Should I have?” Hanssen’s voice is mild, but his eyes are all too knowing. “I’d assumed that you would want to speak to her yourself, given your status as co-leads.”

“Right.” She manages a weak smile. “When do you need an answer by?”

“Ah, yes. Unfortunately their timeline is rather short, so I will need to know as soon as you can manage. Would end of day be sufficient?”

Nodding stiffly, Bernie takes her leave.

Her mind is still whirling when she gets to her office, distracted enough that she doesn’t even notice Serena is there until they practically collide. Instinctively, Bernie reaches out to steady Serena, grasping her upper arms as they both stammer out apologies. It strikes Bernie that this is the closest they’ve been since waking up together on her living room floor, and she realizes how much she’s missed this. Missed Serena’s warmth, being pulled oh so willingly into her orbit. 

Sun spills into the room, picking out the warm highlights in her hair, and for a moment Bernie thinks she sees flecks of gold sparkling in Serena’s dark eyes.

Bernie steps back, hands dropping away, and the flash of hurt that crosses Serena’s face makes her feel vaguely sick.

“Raf said you had a meeting upstairs,” Serena says, breaking the awkward silence that’s settled between them. “What did Hanssen want?”

Swallowing hard, Bernie holds out the brochure like an unexploded ordnance. She sees Serena’s eyes go wide as she takes in the cover, another flash of pain that she quickly hides behind a mask of professionalism.

“This, ah, it seems perfect for you,” she says, leaning against the edge of her desk, gaze firmly avoiding Bernie’s own.

“It is,” Bernie agrees, shuffling her feet with an awkward shrug. “It’s just, the timing isn’t great.”

Serena’s eyes flick up to hers for a moment, then away just as quickly. Bernie can practically see her pull a mask of nonchalance into place, and it makes her teeth ache.

“I’m sure Cam and Charlotte will understand,” Serena says carefully, eyes still on the brochure. “At least it’s not as dangerous as Afghanistan.”

“Serena,” Bernie huffs a frustrated sigh, balling her hand into a fist to keep from reaching out. Digs deep to summon the courage to say what she needs to. “I-, the problem isn’t my kids.” 

The moment she says it, it all becomes clear to Bernie, like a bright light in a dark room. What she wants, _truly_ wants, is to be with Serena. For all her fears and confusion, that’s never changed, not really. 

A kind of peace settles over Bernie. She takes a step closer, and Serena meets her gaze, dark eyes wide and uncertain, and Bernie wills her to understand - she’s willing to bridge this gap, but she needs Serena to meet her halfway.

The warm daylight casts deep shadows on the lines of Serena’s face, let’s Bernie see the bobbing of her throat as she swallows hard.

“You should go.” The words land sharp as a slap, but Bernie doesn’t move, doesn't look away. A note of pleading threads into Serena’s words. “Bernie, you deserve this. You’re the most talented surgeon I’ve ever known, and I’d never want to hold you back from an opportunity like this. You-” Serena hesitates, the slightest crack of emotion showing in her face. “You deserve to be happy, to not be held back by...Holby.”

The unspoken ‘ _Or me’_ hangs loudly between them.

It’s like the same light has been turned on Serena, and Bernie can see her so clearly - sees the fear, the uncertainty, the walls that she’s built up around herself. It breaks Bernie’s heart. Serena gives so much to everyone around her, cares so deeply, that Bernie never truly noticed how much she holds herself at a distance. _It must be so lonely_ , she thinks, living an entire life of secrets, hiding who you are from those closest to you. It’s a loneliness Bernie is all too familiar with, spent much of her life doing the same. Hiding from her kids, her marriage, from the expectations of the world around her.

Maybe they can find a way through all that loneliness, together.

“I don’t want to go.” The words are so soft, Bernie barely realizes she’s said them out loud; still, Serena recoils as if she shouted.

“Bernie-”

“I don’t want to go.” Louder this time, more certain. “And I don’t think you want me to, either.”

Serena seems to crumple in on herself, hands gesturing helplessly.

“Please don’t do this,” she says, voice hollow, and Bernie steps forward, close enough now that she could reach out and touch Serena, though she stops herself. 

“Why not?”

“I’m a werewolf, Bernie,” Serena says, the quiet words sharp. “Not just some woman with a fluffy dog, or a quirky family.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Bernie retorts just as hotly. “I’ve thought of nothing else since that night.”

“Then how can you possibly be all right with that? How can you think that dealing with my life is worth giving up an opportunity like this?”

“Because you’re worth it.” Bernie risks taking Serena’s hand; she tenses, but doesn't pull away. Studies their hands for a long moment before lifting tear filled eyes to meet Bernie’s.

“How can you know that?”

“I know you. You’re the most caring, beautiful, infuriating woman I’ve ever met.” Bernie steps fully into Serena’s personal space now, enough that Serena has to crane her neck a bit to look up at her. “I’m not afraid, Serena. Not of anything about you.”

Serena’s breath hitches, almost a sob.

“I am,” she whispers harshly, still clinging to Bernie’s hand. “I’m terrified. There’s so much still that you don’t know, and I-, I’m afraid that once you know everything you’ll hate me. That you’ll leave.”

“I won’t.” It’s an oversimplification, but Bernie knows to her core that she’s not going to go anywhere. Not this time. Running from this now would only hurt them both, and Bernie’s tired of hurting. “If you give me a reason to stay.”

For a breathless moment, Serena says nothing, just studies Bernie’s face. The silence stretches, long enough that Bernie’s stomach sinks. Maybe Serena isn’t ready to meet her like she thought. The idea that she’s made a fool of herself claws hot and raw at her insides, rising up like panic. Maybe she can still go to Kiev, she thinks wildly, doesn’t know how she’d survive staying now if Serena rejects her.

Her thoughts are spinning madly enough that she almost misses the flash of gold in Serena’s eyes, the way her shoulders square.

“Will this do?” An unexpectedly strong tug of their joined hands pulls Bernie in and then they’re kissing.

Bernie lets out a surprised little noise, eyes fluttering shut of their own accord as she discovers just how soft Serena’s lips are all over again. Her hands come up to frame Serena’s face, keeping her there as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing against the seam of Serena’s mouth until she opens to her. Blood rushes in Bernie’s ears, drowns out everything but the little murmurs of pleasure that vibrate against her lips.

A rattle of the door handle breaks through the haze surrounding them.

“Ms Campbell? Ms Wolfe?” The concern in Raf’s tone makes it clear this isn’t the first time he’s called for them, and Bernie can only be grateful that the blinds are closed.

“We’re on our way, Mr Di Lucca.” Serena’s voice is steady, but rough in a way that raises goosebumps along Bernie’s arms.

Somewhere along the way they must’ve moved closer, and it does nothing for Bernie’s composure to realize that she’s standing between Serena’s thighs, the warmth of her radiating through the layers of fabric between them.

“I suppose we should get back to work.”

Bernie hums her agreement, putting space between them regretfully.

“Later?” Uncertainty lurks in Serena’s eyes. Bernie feels it too, can’t help but think about how it all went wrong after the last time they kissed, but pushes it away.

“Later,” she says firmly. Leans in to press another lingering kiss to Serena’s reddened lips before heading out onto the ward.

The rest of the day finds Bernie fervently grateful for the discipline and training of years in the army. Without it, she doubts she could function at all. She’s able to push it to the back of her mind when speaking to patients, or in surgery, but every time she catches sight of Serena across the room, it’s like her insides perform some sort of barely coordinated dance, overcome by the memory of their kiss in the office, their mutual promise of _later_.

If the persistent flush in Serena’s cheeks is any indication, she’s not having any easier a time with it all.

They manage to avoid being in the office at the same time until the end of the day. The atmosphere settles heavy on their shoulders as they pull on their coats, both of them shooting each other bashful little smiles. Glancing out the door to check no one’s nearby, Bernie risks catching Serena’s hand. Just the touch of her soft skin is enough to make her heart accelerate.

“I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to come to mine for dinner,” she asks carefully. “Tonight.”

Mischief sparkles in Serena’s eyes. She moves closer, their joined hands between them.

“Looking to get me alone, Ms Wolfe?”

“That is the idea.” Bernie lets her eyes drop to Serena’s mouth with its fresh coat of lipstick, lingers there until a flush of pink creeps up Serene’s neck. A little stab of self satisfaction makes her smile. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” 

There’s a hint of an honest to god _growl_ in Serena’s voice, and it rumbles through Bernie’s body like thunder. She sways forward a bit without thinking, the temptation to kiss that smiling mouth too much to resist.

Before she can get there, Serena moves away, disappointment flitting across her face, and Bernie has to bite back a whimper.

“I want to, Bernie. Believe me. It’s just,” she sighs, squeezing Bernie’s hand a little tighter. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

Understanding dawns, bringing a lopsided smile to Bernie’s face. She nods, then blinks as an idea occurs to her.

“Maybe we could still spend time together,” she says, shoulders hunching a bit. “I mean, it’s supposed to be a nice night, and neither of us is on shift tomorrow. I haven’t been in the woods in ages.” Serena’s staring at her like she’s speaking a foreign language, and a wave of nervousness washes over Bernie, the sudden fear that she’s overstepped. “Obviously we don’t have to, I just thought-”

“No! I mean, yes. Yes, I would love that.” 

Tears shimmer in Serena’s eyes as she leans in to press a sweet, all too brief kiss to Bernie’s lips before moving to rest their foreheads together, her warm breath buffeting Bernie’s skin. 

“You are something else, Berenice Wolfe,” she says quietly, voice tinged with something close to awe.

“I said I’ve got your back, didn’t I?” Bernie risks a cheeky grin, and the smile she gets in return rivals the brightness of the moon rising outside the window.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

The woods at Holby’s outskirts are peaceful at night, the sounds of the city almost entirely absent as Bernie spreads a throw in the middle of a small clearing just off the path, the chirping of crickets a chorus around her. Tugging her coat a little tighter around her frame, she sits, ankles crossed, hands braced behind her. She can actually see the stars here, and she thinks of being out in the desert, overwhelmed by bright, unfamiliar sky.

A rustle sounds from the underbrush and she sits up, alert, heart thudding a little faster. Her breath catches as a silver grey muzzle appears from the shadows and then those impossibly gold eyes. A sense of déjà vu washes over her, and for a moment she’s that gangly teen again, transfixed by fear and wonder in the face of the wolf.

Serena pads over slowly, the moonlight rippling across her lean, muscular body, as if she’s giving Bernie time to see her, to make sure this is okay. Now that the shock of it all has receded somewhat, Bernie can appreciate how beautiful she is, take in all the details that her overwhelmed mind couldn’t take in before. She holds herself very still, smiling gently, hands resting loose in her lap as Serena makes her way to Bernie’s side.

With a surprisingly doggy huff, Serena nudges the side of her muzzle against Bernie’s shoulder, nuzzling a bit when Bernie leans into the touch. She resists the temptation to sink her hands into Serena’s thick fur, thinks they’ll have to have a talk about what the protocol is for that sort of thing. Instead she just reciprocates, nudging back with a smile. 

An all too familiar sparkle lights those golden eyes. Before Bernie can react a cold, wet nose is against the side of her neck.

“Hey!” She yelps, wincing at the sudden chill. Serena dances back a few steps, front legs spread wide, head lowered in a playful posture, seemingly immune to Bernie’s scowl. “I’ll get you back for that,” she grumbles, wiping at the side of her neck with the sleeve of her coat.

Serena’s mouth drops open, tongue lolling out in a wolfish grin, moonlight glinting off her sharp fangs. The expression is somehow so very Serena that a chuckle burbles up from Bernie’s throat. Sensing all is forgiven, Serena moves to sit at Bernie’s side. She hesitates only a moment before leaning into the wolf, feeling her chest expand with each breath, the warmth of her sinking through the sleeve of Bernie’s coat. 

Contentment has never come easy in Bernie’s life, but now that they’re here, she finds it just feels _right_. Gratitude fills her to the brim, thankful that they found one another again, that they’re both taking a chance on a future together.

Leaning a little more heavily against Serena’s side, they sit together in the quiet of the night and watch the stars.


End file.
